Friends With Money
by Sierra-Jae
Summary: A gift from a friend reunites two past lovers, whether they like it or not.
1. Prologue

AN: Hello, all! I'm back with a new story that I hope you'll all enjoy. Reviews are very much appreciated.

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**PROLOGUE**

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Will was already late for work.

Balancing his coffee mug in one hand and his folder against his chest, Will pulled the front door of the new house closed behind him, and made his way to his lonely car in the double driveway. The path seemed so wide now that Emma's car wasn't parked there each morning.

"Good morning, Will."

Will looked up to find Allie on the other side of the picket fence, her hands buried in the earth and a number of pot plants surrounding her on the grass. Her eyes shone with a calmness Will envied, and her expression, so youthful and vibrant, was always so uplifting.

"Hey, Allie," Will called to his neighbour. "I'd love to chat, but I'm really late for work."

Allie smiled. "I can see that." She nodded to his folders as he struggled to lift the strap of his briefcase over his head as he placed his coffee mug on the roof of the car. "I'll leave you to it," she chuckled.

"Allie?"

She looked up front the fence. "Yeah?"

"You have dirt here," Will gestured with his hand and wiped it across his forehead as he unlocked the car.

She laughed as she brushed at her face, and for a brief moment, Will entertained the thought he'd had last Friday, that this woman, his young, blonde, undeniably sexy neighbour, was having an effect on him. He swallowed and smiled as he placed his briefcase and folder in the front seat. She was the kind of woman he'd always imagined starting a family with. Perfect domestic bliss he thought he'd found with Terri. The type of domestic bliss he'd wanted for himself and Emma.

"Nothing a shower won't fix," Will heard Allie call back as he started the engine. "It's only seven am and I'm already sweat—" Will took a sip of his coffee and watched, amused, as Allie shook her head, the two plaits of her long, blonde hair flying across her chest. "You don't need to hear about how gross I am."

Will grinned. _You're certainly not gross. _He watched her crouch down again, her low cut shirt revealing slightly tanned, ample breasts. Will bit his lip, and forced himself to drag his gaze away.

Will quickly placed his coffee cup back in the holder, the brown liquid splashing up the sides as his house keys slipped from the dashboard and hit the cup.

A thought hit him. Had he locked the front door? Emma's old keyring dangled against his palm as he looked back at the house, trying desperately to remember if he'd turned the key in the door.

Will threw the driver's door open and jogged towards the double-storey house. He climbed the three steps to the porch Emma had so admired the moment she set eyes on the home. It was almost a year ago when they had first driven all the way from Lima to Dayton because Emma had seen the home listed online and had instantly fallen in love with it. After he'd proposed to Emma, they had been quick to search out new homes, opportunities for their future. For a family. And when Emma got tenure, their horizons brightened. So they drove to Dayton. And when they arrived in Dayton and saw the white picket fence, the maple tree on the sidewalk and the large porch, Will assured her they could make the drive to work in Lima each morning and afternoon. It was far, but they'd get used to it. And the house was perfect for them. Three months later, they had moved in. A month after that, Will had realised that his concerns before he proposed were more than just concerns. They were problems. Huge problems.

Will sighed as he tested the handle. The door opened. He pulled out his keys and turned them in the latch. Emma's voice played in the back of his head.

"_We have the most attractive home in the street, Will."_

"_Yeah, in the safest part of town, Emma." _

"_Honey, I always check twice. And so should you, because— Don't roll your eyes at me, Will!"_

"_It's hard when we have to do this every morning."_

"_Don't snap at me. I'm just being cautious, Will."_

"Sir?"

Will turned from the door to find a delivery man on the path below the steps, a large starch white envelope in his hands.

"Sir, you have mail that needs to be signed for upon delivery."

Will nodded and reached for the pen, thanking the man as he collected Will's signature and left.

"Someone's important," Allie called jokingly as Will turned the envelope over with a smile, curious to see through the confidential letter was from.

"It's from a lawyer in Lima," Will said as he stepped closer to his car and emptied the contents of the envelope onto the bonnet. A few papers slipped out, and the engine hummed beneath his fingertips as he picked at the papers, trying to figure out which one was supposed to be read first.

"Lima?" Allie asked. "Didn't you move from there last year?"

"Yeah. I did." _But my ex-fiancee's gone back there. Without me. Because I broke her heart,_ Will opted to leave out.

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**_LANCASTER & Associates_**

_16 Allentown Road_

_Lima, OH 45801_

_Mr William Schuester_

_2 Williamsburg Street_

_Dayton, OH 45402_

To Mr William Schuester,

On behalf of the Trustees and Executor of the estate of the late Shannon Bieste, I wish to notify you that the late Shannon Bieste made you a beneficiary to her will. She has left the property of _Bieste Manor_ in Seattle, Washington in your possession to be shared equally with Miss Emma Pillsbury. At the time of valuation before Ms Bieste's passing, the property was valued at Nine Million, Six Hundred Thousand Dollars.

It is requested that you attend a meeting at _Bieste Manor_ in Seattle, Washington on the 14th of August, 2013. All beneficiaries to the will are required to be present on this date in order to officiate and finalize all legal documents.

Please, if I reach you as I am hopeful, endeavor to respond to me as soon as possible to enable me to conclude my job.

I await your prompt response.

Yours in service,

Morgan Lancaster

LANCASTER & Associates

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"Is everything okay, Will?" Allie asked. When Will looked up, he found concern etched in her expression.

"I've umm…" Will faltered. "My very close friend has passed away."

Allie braced her hand against the waist high fence. "Oh, Will," she sighed. "I'm so sorry."

"Yeah. Me, too," Will choked. "She left me an estate in Washington." He cleared his throat. "To share with my ex-fiancee."


	2. Chapter 1

AN: Thank you for all of the lovely reviews. They obviously motivate me to write, so here is the first chapter of 'Friends With Money.' Thanks for reading and reviewing!

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After paying the cab driver, Will hurried through the large open doors of Beiste Manor. He was so late he'd barely had a chance to appreciate the manor from the outside. But as he walked through the entrance and was greeted by one of the largest marble staircases he had ever seen in his life, Will imagined that the view from the far end of the driveway would have been amazing had his head not been buried in the documents he'd had the nagging urge to read over a fourth time.

"Mr Schuester?"

Will turned around to find a young woman, not much older than one of his graduating students, watching him curiously.

"Yes." Will swallowed. "That's me."

She nodded and smiled.

"The meeting is being held upstairs in the library. If you take these stairs to the right," she rested her hand on the marble banister and tapped it twice, "follow the corridor of the east wing to the end, and you'll find two identical doors. The library is the left door."

Will thanked the girl and asked her where he could store his luggage until the meeting was over. With the large envelope in hand, Will replayed the girl's instructions and climbed the stairs.

After the embarrassingly loud tapping of his shoes on marble, Will was relieved to find that the first floor was carpeted. Will tried to listen for voices to follow the right direction, but he was only met with silence except for the creaking of floorboards. Will counted four bedrooms in the east wing before he reached the end of the corridor. Between each door was a large painting or standing sculpture, and at the end of the corridor was a water fountain that Will guessed was either broken or turned off.

Will looked left and then right at two identical dark timber doors that reached the ceiling, and tried to remember the girl's instructions. Was the library right or left at the end of the east wing?

With a pounding heart, Will couldn't remember. Behind one of those doors was the love of his life. It was like Russian roulette.

Will picked the right.

He knocked softly, but no answer came. He stood back. Perhaps they hadn't heard him. Will turned and looked down the corridor to the opposite end of the house. The west wing seemed identical, and the end of it so far away.

Will slowly opened the doors to find a large, empty space with an enormous window and window seat at the back of the room. That was definitely not the library.

Will cleared his throat and shut the doors behind him. So now he knew.

Will knocked on the opposite door, feeling an uncomfortable tightness spread across his chest. He wasn't ready for this.

The door opened.

"Good afternoon, Mr Schuester," a man, possibly a few years younger than Will, proclaimed loudly as he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his dark suit jacket. "I'm Mr Lancaster, Ms Beiste's attorney. We've been waiting for you to arrive for an hour."

"Sorry I'm late," Will apologised as he shook Mr Lancaster's hand and then stepped around the boisterous attorney. "My flight from Ohio was delayed."

Will observed the scene before him as Mr Lancaster took a seat at the large table in the centre of the room. A dark-haired woman sitting at the head of the table had her back to Will, and a seemingly unimpressed, elderly male sat at the opposite end of the table, watching Will closely. Emma wasn't there.

Relief consumed Will for a brief moment as he slid the envelope across the table to Mr Lancaster. Perhaps she was late. Maybe she had never planned on coming.

The attorney opened the envelope before Will could even pull out his chair. And when Will did sink into the chair and release a troubled breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding since he set foot in Beiste Manor, he looked up at the woman at the head of the table. It was Emma, with her gaze trained on Will.

Will's eyes widened in shock. She watched him for a brief moment, her expression unreadable, and then she turned to Mr Lancaster.

"So the main item we need to address here today is the reading of the will and signing it over into your names so that we can—

Will cleared his throat, convincing himself that the meeting would be easier to endure if he stopped staring at his ex-fiancee and focused on the task at hand. "I'm sorry," Will started, "but I haven't been told anything about my friend's death. I have no idea what happened to her."

Mr Lancaster didn't look up from the paperwork but muttered almost inaudibly, "My apologies, Mr Schuester. We assumed you were informed."

"Was Shannon sick?" Will asked, turning his gaze on Emma for an answer. She stared straight ahead, over the shoulder of the other attorney at the table and out the window.

"Yes," the quieter attorney spoke up. "She was diagnosed with breast cancer in May, and she passed away on the 22nd of June."

Will wiped a hand across his face.

"Did she have family with her when she…passed?"

"Ms Beiste passed away in the company of Miss Pillsbury," Mr Lancaster revealed.

Will looked up at Emma, and she turned to face him, her plum-painted lips pursed.

"You knew Shannon was sick?"

"Of course I did," Emma remarked. "She was my best friend."

"She was my best friend, too." _Until I quit my job. Completely moved from Lima._ "You should have called me."

Emma's face seemed to flush slightly, just that little bit Will recognised when she became upset. It was even more visible not that her hair was so dark. Why had she coloured her beautiful hair? Will realised he was staring again when the blush travelled to her chest. He decided not to add his intended comment of 'I deserved to know', and looked towards Mr Lancaster.

"It's a very sad time, Mr Schuester," Mr Lancaster observed with not a single coat of care painting his tone. "Would you like us to take a short break for your benefit?"

Will shook his head. "No, I'm okay."

"Great, as we've discussed in detail on the phone, Shannon has left both of you the house to share equally to do with it as you will. She has also left Miss Pillsbury the sum of one million dollars."

The attorney pushed two identical copies of a page across the table to Will and Emma, and then an extra one for Emma. Will watched Emma sign both forms quickly. Usually he would have paused, contemplated what it meant, but Emma's rush to press pen to paper hurried his own. Will signed where indicated and handed the form back.

"Now, you should both know there is a very interested buyer in this land, whom I have met with this morning," the elderly attorney started. "He is offering fourteen million dollars for the property, and plans to knock the mansion down due to its decay. He was in contact with Ms Beiste before her passing, but she eventually became too unwell to do business with him."

Will tried to pay attention, but sitting so close to Emma after a whole year drowning in memories of her was all-consuming. He wasn't over her yet. But he hoped that for her sake she was over him.

"A contract was drawn up, and it was reported to us that Ms Beiste decided not to go through with the transaction on the 15th of June, and on this same date, altered her will to leave the both of you this lovely home."

Will watched as Emma rung her hands together in her lap. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, and opened them again.

"Her reasoning for not going through with the transaction was because she stated that the home was to be placed in the hands of a future family, and she did not want the home destroyed."

Will listened to Emma's soft sigh. He imagined his heart swelling as pressure seemed to run through his veins. It had been so long since he'd felt this…tension. Since before they had consummated their relationship. But this was a different kind of tension. Now, she hated him.

The attorney sat back in his chair, and Mr Lancaster took over the advice. "The house has been on the market for five years. But with Ms Beiste's strict request that the home only to go to a genuine person who would honour the history of the home, there have been no suitable takers. The only interest is in destroying the home. My advice to both of you is to keep the property as it is, or to sell the land. You will obviously gain a profit from selling, and lose out financially keeping it. I have arranged a meeting with an estate agent for tomorrow morning so that you can consider your options and the agent can go over all details of the house that I am unaware of."

Will nodded, and listened to Emma's agreement, her small voice that always sounded so comforting, suddenly so pained. He'd missed the way she sounded.

Mr Lancaster handed Emma another page, and told her to sign the bottom of the document. Emma reached for her pen, but Mr Lancaster was quick to hand her his, a coy smile forming on his lips. Emma smiled somewhat gratefully at the gesture, but didn't seem to notice the expression, the dark, wanton eyes the attorney watched her with. When she handed back the pen and then form, Mr Lancaster thanked her with the same smile, the same expression. She sat back in her chair, seeming so defeated.

"Mr Schuester," the attorney addressed, "Miss Pillsbury has stated that she would like to stay in the home for the night."

Will looked to Emma, but she was preoccupied with evening the edges of her copies of the forms in her folder.

Mr Lancaster continued. "I will be meeting with the estate agent to finalise all legal documents, so I'll be staying here with Miss Pillsbury." The lawyer smiled at Emma across the table, but she hadn't looked up, or even registered his remark. "Mr Schuester, you're welcome to join us if you like," he added, his desire and motive obvious.

The attorneys both stood, shook Emma and Will's hands, and stepped outside into the hallway. When Will heard the door close, he looked up at Emma. Her gaze was focused on the edge of the mahogany table, lifeless and withdrawn, so contradictory of how perfect and alluring she seemed with her dark hair half pinned up, half falling in delicate, perfect waves down to the curve of her breasts. Will looked away.

"Emma, could I please speak to you?"

She ignored him and reached for her hand bag, gathering her folder in her arms. She stood and moved towards the door.

"You look great," he called as he watched her reach for the handle of the door, her svelte form so noticeable in her tight white skirt and mauve blouse that shaped in, clinging firmly at her waist.

Emma turned and stared at Will.

"How are you?" he asked when she didn't speak a word.

She watched him closely.

Will cleared his throat. "I realise that this is going to be…difficult for us to take care of selling this…" He gazed up at the high ceiling and remembered the corridor of the east wing to the west wing that seemed to go on forever, "mansion, I suppose you would call it."

"I'm not selling this home."

Will blinked. "Excuse me?"

"I absolutely refuse to sell this home."

_What other option was there?_ "Emma, this isn't a home. It's almost a museum." He watched her shift her folder from arm to arm, a lock of her dark hair caught between the two. "Somebody wants the house. We should sell."

Emma pursed her lips. Will leant against the corner of the table. Emma parted her lips, and then closed them again in a moment of contemplation. She straightened her posture, and nodded to herself.

"Will, before Shannon died, we would sit together for hours and talk about anything to keep her mind off of what was happening."

Will swallowed over the swell of guilt and remorse that constricted his throat.

"The morning before she passed, Shannon told me about this home, that she grew up here." Will smiled softly at Emma who was obviously trying to keep her tears at bay and her gaze focused on the carpet beneath her feet. She was so sensitive, and the tiny wiggle of her nose every few seconds made Will feel ill. Why had she had to deal with Shannon's illness on top of her own problems? Why was it always poor Emma?

"Shannon's great aunt raised her, and her bedroom was at the end of the hall downstairs," she added. "Shannon studied Art History in college, not teaching. She decided to become a sports coach only because..." Emma drew a deep breath and looked directly at Will, her gaze penetrating his. "Shannon was wheelchair bound until she was twenty-five. Did you know that, Will?"

He shook his head. "When she returned here after college, she still couldn't walk. She spent most of her days painting portraits of wealthy individuals of Seattle. She sold most of her paintings, but many still remain in the house. So yes, it is a museum," she concluded. "It's a museum that showcases hidden talents of my best friend. And I refuse to sell it."

"Emma, that's a very touching story. And I'm sure you can take the paintings. Shannon would want you to have them. But I don't see any way that we can keep this house. Or maintain it. It wouldn't work as an investment either if nobody wants it." The soft heave of her chest was growing as Will spoke, so he paused for a moment, trying not to cause her any more distress than he had to. "It's beautiful. Probably the most beautiful house I've ever set foot in. But it's a mansion. And sweetheart, I can't afford the upkeep of a mansion."

Will watched a tear slip from her eye before she turned abruptly and left the library, the door closing behind her. Will ran a hand over his face before he pulled the door open and followed her. She was already halfway across the east wing.

"Emma!" Will called in a hushed whisper, but she kept walking. When Will caught up to her, he softly grasped her forearm to stop her.

Her head snapped around to face him and she stepped away from him quickly. "Don't touch me," she hissed, and he quickly pulled his fingers away from their touch on her arm. They had only been there briefly, but enough time to feel her tremble. "And don't you dare call me 'sweetheart'," she reprimanded.

"Emma, we can't afford this home."

"I can," she whispered as she glared at him. "I have a million dollars."

Will looked to the end of the hall, making sure nobody was in sight. The house was completely silent,

"Yes, you have," he hesitated. And realisation hit him. She could keep this house if he didn't buy her out. With a million dollars, she could maintain it. And if she really wanted it, he wouldn't threaten to buy her out. That would hurt her too much. And he couldn't hurt her again. Not even for his share of the fourteen million dollars. If it came down to it, she could have whatever she wanted. If it was best for her – in his opinion.

"She wanted us to have this home together. She wanted us to have a family here," Emma sighed, her voice quivering.

Will stuffed his hands in his pockets, and clenched his fists as he watched her. It took everything he had to not cry, to not reach out and gather her into his arms. Her eyes were so beautiful, so wide and giving. Will ached for her. He hadn't realised how much he'd missed her, but standing alone with her when she was so vulnerable made him realise how much he still wanted her. How he craved her love, her guidance, her care…her touch. Why was being apart the best thing for them? Why couldn't it have worked?

"She was trying to play matchmaker," Will smiled wistfully, the corner of his lips twitching in anxiety. "She thought this house would bring us together again."

Her gaze was icy when she drew her gaze up from the ground. "Well obviously that's not going to happen." Will watched her jaw tighten, and he bit the inside of his cheek as he recalled how the skin there smelt and tasted, and felt beneath his hot tongue. "Matchmaker was already played, and someone took his token off the board," Emma accused before she turned away again. "So you should just go back to Lima."

"We have a meeting in the morning that I need to be at," Will sighed as he watched her walk away again.

"I'm going to tell Michael to cancel it. I'm not selling."

Will stepped beside her, and then in front of her. She rolled her eyes and stopped before he could reach out, obviously more inclined to not have him touch her than to leave immediately.

"Emma, you keeping the house isn't going to work," Will stated. "One million may keep this house standing for a while, but for what? Your peace of mind?" She eyed him closely, and he confidently welcomed her stare, which seemed to both relax and infuriate her at the same time. "You can't just leave it here empty while you're on the other side of the country in Ohio. It's ridiculous."

Her tongue poked out to wet her lips, and he watched it poke at the corner of her mouth, pink flesh that had touched him in the most delightful places in the throes of passion. He couldn't think like that.

"Why is it ridiculous? Because you want your money?"

"No, I just—

"Well if you don't need the money now, how will it affect you?" she asked. _It won't. But I don't want to have to see you again in a month. I don't want to do this again. I can't live another month counting down the days until I get to see you, until I have to see you. I want this over now. I want what's best for both for us. Just like we agreed. _"If I can find a buyer, one Shannon would have wanted, you'll have your money," Emma assured Will.

"I don't think you're going to find a buyer, Em."

"I will. And that will be my responsibility."

"Mine, too," Will justified.

Emma sighed softly. "All I'm asking for is a few weeks, Will. Just until school starts again in September."

"You're not going to find a buyer in a month," Will assumed.

"I might."

He shook his head in pity, and locked his gaze with hers. _You're becoming too attached to a home that isn't yours. _"Em, you need to just let it go…" Will advised.

"Don't you dare talk to me about letting things go," she threatened calmly. "All I'm asking for is this. One month. If I can't find a buyer in a month, I'll sell. This beautiful home," she whispered, moving closer to Will as she gestured around, "Shannon's home that she gave us as a gift, for some future she saw for us, will be knocked down. And then you can have your money. And this will all be over."

"Em—

"After everything, can't you just let me have this?" she asked too quietly, and he realised that she was so close her could feel the heat of her breath on his chin.

Will stood taller and swallowed as he stared down into her gaze. _After everything, can't you just let me have this? _It translated to everything that had been said before she'd moved back to Lima without him._ You've hurt me so deeply, Will. I'll never love again, Will. No man will ever touch me like you have, Will, and I hope that knowledge hurts you more than it relieves you. I want you to know that I'll never be happy again, I'll never be loved again and it's your fault. This is not what is best for me, and you know it. _

The dark, seductive eyes of Mr Lancaster as he watched Emma flashed in Will's mind. That was not the future Will wanted for Emma. He wanted her to be happy, but not treated the way men like Mr Lancaster treated women like Emma. Just the thought of Emma naked with that man made Will's insides clench in torment.

_I will be meeting with the estate agent to finalise all legal documents, so I'll be staying here with Miss Pillsbury,_ the attorney had said.

Will swallowed. The thought of Emma staying in the huge house with that animal made Will dizzy.

"I'll help you find a buyer," he decided. "I'll stay here and help you find a buyer."_ I'll stay and talk you out of this. I'll stay and make sure that man keeps his hands off of you._

"I'll do it alone."

"I don't want you to do it alone," Will asserted. "This is my problem, too."

"Fine, stay," Emma finished. Will nodded.

"But you're making it your problem, Will," her stare burned his as she stepped around him. "Just like you always do."

Will licked his lips as he watched her grasp the banister for support, and then she was out of sight, the click of her heels on marble the only evidence she was still under the same walls as Will.

One month of summer. In a mansion in Seattle. With his ex-fiancee, Emma Pillsbury.

Will bit back a groan. Whether that was of frustration or excitement, he wasn't sure. But when Will heard the final click of her heels on marble, and then silence, he was certain it wouldn't take long before he'd find out.


	3. Chapter 2

**AN: Reviews are like gold to me, and I appreciate each one that I receive very, very much. I hope everyone enjoys this chapter.**

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"Thank you, Mrs Treves," Emma commented as she stepped off the path and onto the gravelly driveway. "It was wonderful to be able to speak with you. You know so much about the home. We're very lucky to have you."

After walking the grounds with the estate agent, Emma had a better idea of just what it was she had gotten herself into. Eroding walls, cracked pipes, faulty locks. The mansion seemed just fine from the outside. Beautiful, magical, scarily gothic in the most romantic ideal. Until she stepped up close. When Emma stepped up close, it was just a house that was going to cost her more than she'd imagined.

"If you want to know more about the house, you should speak to Rae," Mrs Treves advised. "She's the young girl who works here from Monday to Friday."

"Oh, yes. I think I met her when I arrived yesterday. Is she the housekeeper?" Emma asked curiously.

"Yes, she is. Rae can do anything, and she does everything. This house would have been demolished years ago if it weren't for her love for it. She was a family friend of the Beistes. She lost her parents when she was very young, and she lived here until she left for college. She's an art teacher now, and runs private classes on the green every week day."

_This is the link I've been holding onto the house for_, Emma thought. Rae was the link, and hopefully the girl was someone who would be on her side.

"I had no idea," Emma remarked. "Should we be paying her to maintain the house? Or is that arranged through somebody else?"

"Her arrangement with Ms Beiste was that she would take care of the home in return for a place to practice and teach her art," the older woman divulged with a hint of admiration. She obviously knew Rae, and Rae was obviously a good person.

Emma nodded. "As a teacher myself, I'm more than happy for it to continue that way until I find a buyer."

The estate agent smiled softly, disbelieving Emma's statement of certainty as she had all morning each time Emma made a similar comment. "You have the files to study and make an educated decision," she encouraged, her advice clear. She was a discouraging as Will.

As Emma said goodbye to the estate agent and made her way to the front door of the house, she found Will standing in the doorway, hands in his pockets and a serious expression aging his features.

"You were welcome to join us, Will," Emma commented as she turned and watched Mrs Treves' car circle around the driveway and pass through the gates.

When Emma turned to look at him, Will sighed and leaned against the doorway, his gaze locked on hers, examining her as though she were one of his misbehaved students. "I was busy trying not to make this my problem."

"You're here. So I guess it is your problem," Emma responded coolly.

"I know that." _Then don't look at me as though I'm keeping you prisoner in this house._ "I'm just here in case you need me."

"I don't need you," she replied, her tone void of emotion.

He nodded so believingly, so understandingly, that the warm, comforting sun beaming down on her neck seemed to burn right through her skin.

When Emma licked her lips once, she felt his eyes on her tongue. He seemed to be concentrating, trying to decide whether she was feeling anxious or alluring, or both.

Breaking the stare, Emma shifted the folder in her arms. "Look, it's not in my nature to be a horrible person. Honestly, Will, it's making me sick to the stomach being spiteful towards you. And being around you is obviously awkward for me…this is awkward for both of us."

Emma watched as Will raised a hand and rubbed at the back of his neck as his gaze focused on her shoes. She swallowed. "But we're going to have to spend time together. And I'm not going to waste a whole month pretending to be somebody new, somebody harsh and unlikable that you don't recognise. I tried that yesterday, and I couldn't sleep last night because…" she trailed off, tired of listening to herself and her conscience's constant demands to not veer off into other conversations that she didn't want to have.

She could feel him watching her, his expression as pitying and conflicted as he had been the night before he'd proposed; the night he'd sat with her in the dining room of their apartment and expressed his worries that maybe she wasn't wife material.

The memory just incensed her more. "I'm the same person I always have been," Emma stated very clearly, her eyes penetrating Will's. "And being somebody else just to express that I have feelings of resentment towards you makes me feel like a terrible, terrible person. So I won't be rude or unpleasant to you." Emma shrugged and shook her head. "I just can't do that."

Will's jawline seemed to tighten, and his look bore into hers. Her heart seemed to race faster. As much as it hurt to look at him, her handsome, striking ex-fiancee who'd dumped her, there would always be that part of Emma that was consumed by pure, feral lust each time she looked at him. He was distracting. And knowing that once, he'd loved and desired her, made Emma feel both nervous and excited. Emma couldn't bring herself to feel bad about it. She didn't feel that she was betraying herself. It was something she had to live with for the rest of her life...she could do that. Each time she looked at his photograph, or touched herself in her lonely bed, Emma realised it was true. She'd never want anyone the way she wanted Will. He had been her first, the one to stir everything up inside of her and ask her what her fantasies were. When Emma was alone, she never felt like she needed anything. But when Will was around, it was as though she'd been missing out on too much. Too much love, too much respect…too much passion.

"But I want you to know," she pulled her shoulders back, "I want you to know that I still have very intense feelings of disappointment for you."

"Do you want me to stay in the city?" he murmured in question, his lost eyes gazing over her body as though he wanted to pull her into his arms and hold her.

"No," Emma choked softly. "It's not my place to ask that of you."

"But, if it's too hard, I'm giving you the option."

"Don't flatter yourself, Will," she advised, confidence bubbling within her. He'd been listening too closely and hearing his own version of her heartfelt speech. "Being around you doesn't hurt as deeply as you think."

Will looked hurt and ashamed and frustrated. His eyes expressed his care for her, and something more. Want, Emma hoped.

When she made her way to pass by him through the doorway, for a moment, she wondered if he'd grab her arm, or press her up against the wall. That was usually how he did things; once, lying in bed at night, she'd told him how his roughness made her melt, made her blush. It was so romantic, she'd said. There in the doorway, a part of her hoped he would grab her and say how deeply sorry he was. Her arm tingled waiting for his grip. Emma wanted it. Something for her to turn down, something to…feel. Something to flush red about later, alone in bed.

But he didn't apologise, didn't call after her.

"What's he doing back here?" Will called just as Emma was about to leave the foyer. She left the folder on the hall table and turned back to the doorway.

Morgan's Primus was coming down the driveway toward the main gate.

"Morgan's going through a troubling separation from his wife," Emma explained as she stepped outside and into the sun. "I offered for him to stay here. Did you know he was originally from Seattle?"

Will bit his tongue. "No, I didn't know he was originally from Seattle."

"Emma," Morgan called as he stepped out of his car and onto the driveway.

Will couldn't help but notice her wide smile, her flushed cheeks that no longer matched her hair. "Good morning, Morgan."

Morgan quickly held up a hand as Emma stepped closer. _Good, _Will thought. _He's sick and you can't go near him. _Emma tilted her head in question, and Morgan smiled. She grinned. Will crossed his arms over his chest.

"I went into town this morning and I got you something," Morgan teased in a sing-song voice.

Emma made little sounds of curious surprise that sounded glorious and cute and so angelic. Will hated the guy.

"A cranberry bagel!" she laughed softly when Morgan pulled a paper bag from behind his back and Emma peaked inside.

"I told you Seattle had them," Morgan reminded her, watching as Emma took a bite. Will watched Morgan closely as Morgan watched Emma's tongue closely, the muscle creeping over her bottom lip, wiping dark jam from light flesh.

A question presented itself in Will's mind. Had this man kissed Emma? Had Morgan pressed his lips against Emma's skin? Had he felt that softness that Will hadn't appreciated when it had been his?

Will felt hot. The kind of hot when you don't sweat, when you can't feel the sticky dampness that proves what has ignited this heat is really happening. The kind of hot when there's pressure in your chest, and your muscles quiver. When everything burns. It was the angry kind of hot, the shameful kind of hot, the jealous kind of hot. Jealousy…that's obviously what it was. And the peak of jealousy was almost as intense as an orgasm.

"They aren't just a Lima thing," Morgan added. "And Seattle does them best," he said, noticeably pleased to have enlightened Emma.

Emma raised an eyebrow. "I don't remember you complaining about the one at Baker Place."

"My trainer did," he winked at Emma.

Will clicked his tongue and rocked back on his heels. "I didn't realise we could have arranged private meetings before we got here," he mentioned, and felt Emma turn and gaze up at him, as though she'd forgotten he was there. "That would have been convenient," Will explained when Emma continued to watch him attentively.

"Well, it was convenient for Emma," Morgan clarified, innuendo too weak for Emma to catch onto. But Will caught it, was waiting for it. Morgan met Will's glare as Emma glanced between the two men. _Don't go there,_ Will challenged with his gaze.

"I didn't want a phone call from me in the middle of the day to keep her away from her students," Morgan issued. "So we met up at a bakery. Which was okay, I guess."

"You seemed to enjoy it the second time around," Emma interjected. She was rolling the edge of the paper bag in her fingers, the crinkling loud and drawing attention to herself.

"Are you ready to go, Em?" Morgan asked.

Emma looked up at Will, who watched her intently, obviously confused.

"Where are you going?" she heard Will ask after she excused herself to go and get her purse.

She listened from the doorway as Morgan spoke. "There's a great bookstore in Seattle that has a book Emma wants. I offered to drive her there seeing as I'm the one with the car."

"There are always cabs," she heard Will reply, his voice closer than where she'd left the men. She quickly stepped from around the doorway and looked into the foyer mirror, bouncing her curls and touching up her lip stick.

But as Will stepped into the room, her gaze met his as he stared into the mirror. Refocusing on herself, she heard Will inhale a deep breath, and then the tapping of his shoes as he climbed the staircase.

A deep breath. That was what she needed too. And she could take one quite freely –whenever Will wasn't in the same room.

* * *

With the real estate agent's folder in hand, Will walked the house for most of the day, inspecting problems listed, problems that he found he couldn't fix himself.

The first floor balcony was the last place he had to inspect, a drainage problem from the second floor balcony listed on file. And that was where Will found Emma just after sunset, wine glass in hand as she looked out at the wide expanse of grass and gardens before the mansion.

She smiled when Will told her that he hadn't known she'd arrived home. She didn't offer an explanation, but she seemed tired, emotionally exhausted. Will revelled in this. The smug lawyer hadn't made her happy. Probably couldn't make her happy.

"He reminds me of Carl," Will murmured as he watched Emma swallow what remained in her glass.

"Does he?" she asked as she swiped the white wine bottle from the edge of the balcony and refilled her glass. "I suppose that's a good thing," she commented, her subtext clear.

"How are your parents?" he asked. Jab for jab, Emma supposed.

"They're fine. My sister is due to have her first child later this month, so they're very excited about their first grandchild." Emma rested her elbows on the balcony, the cold cement surface rough against the bare skin of her forearms. "It's all they can talk about."

"Well, James is a redhead, so with his genes, I'm sure they won't be disappointed when the day comes."

Emma giggled, and then stopped herself. This was the man who broke her heart. It was so easy to forget, though.

"I think the whole ginger ideal is becoming less important to them," she confessed pointedly.

"Well, that makes your life easier."

"How would that make my life easier?" she asked, her tone less accusatory than she had hoped it would sound.

"Well, when you find someone, you won't have to worry about the colour of his hair."

Emma was quiet. The wind was soft, a summer breeze blowing by and lifting the hem of her dress a only few centimetres higher. Not high enough to make Emma flatten it down around her thighs, but enough to make her feel sexy, womanly, as though she had something special that Will wanted.

"You haven't said anything about my hair."

"It's nice," he seemed to struggle to say. "I preferred it natural." He looked away from her, out across the gardens below that were basking in the twilight. "But it's lovely."

_I miss you, Will._ The words were resting on the tip of her tongue. How easy it would be to just say them.

"I needed a change," she offered.

"Change is good."

His voice was so deep, yet so soft at the same time that every emotion Emma thought she'd dealt with came flooding back. She'd never felt as safe with anyone as she had with Will. She just had to touch him. Just subtly. Yes, she'd do it subtly. She just had to feel him again.

She turned, pressing her back against the balcony, her naked shoulder blades exposed by the low back of her summer dress. Emma pressed her naked upper arm against Will's. The cotton of his tight shirt rubbed against her skin. His aftershave was calming. His body heat warmed through to her heart. _This_ was what she'd missed. Not sex, or dating, or promises of a future. Just moments when she'd felt safe and near to him.

"Not all change is good," she whispered. _You're seducing a man who dumped you, who left you, who broke your heart, _her self confidence berated. _You seem so desperate and stupid. Where is your dignity? _Emma would have listened to that voice and cared about herself if it wasn't for the look in Will's eyes that told her somebody else was already doing it for her.

"I think you've had too much wine, Em."

"Maybe." _I remember how you said that to me only winter night before you carried me to bed and stripped me naked. You tasted sweet wine on my tongue and then me between my thighs. _"Are you seeing anyone?" she pressed on.

Will turned his head to look down at her. Their gazes locked. He looked away, up at the darkening sky.

"Okay," she whispered mainly to herself, content not to be told.

She handed the wine glass to Will. He looked up at her curiously. "You can drink from my glass, Will." He smiled softly. "We've shared far more germs than someone would catch from sharing a wine glass," she reassured him.

He brought the glass to his lips and took a sip.

"Sometimes I wonder if you regret leaving me."

Will looked down at her again. His arm shifted and rubbed against hers. "I didn't leave you." Will took another sip when she tilted her head back, closer to him. "I just…"

"What, Will?" she wondered aloud.

"It was healthier for both of us to just…not be together."

He watched her closely, gauging her reaction.

She sighed deeply when she caught his worried gaze. "It doesn't hurt as much as it used to, Will. Don't worry. I'm over it. It still pains me, but I'm over it for the most part." She took the wine glass from his hand and finished what was left in the glass. "I still despise you for being the one to end it, though."

"I'll always love you, Emma. I still do. I don't love you any less," he confessed, but she didn't hear his emphatic tone, the one that stole his breath between words.

"You're just not in love with me," she added as she turned to look out over the gardens once more, mimicking his position.

He placed a hand over hers where it grasped the edge of the balcony. The sensation teased her. His thumb passed over her wrist, coiling a heat deep in her abdomen that told Emma that she wanted more than comfort.

"I never said I wasn't still in love with you," he clarified, his whisper low and gravelly. A tingle zipped down Emma's spine. The heat of flesh played against one side of her hand, cold cement on her palm. "But we weren't happy together," he recalled. "It was too tiring for us, Em."

"I could have made you happy," she said, watching his fingers intertwine with hers.

"When Dr Shane wanted you off the pills, you were a mess," he remembered, his voice soft as they basked in the intimate moment. Emma was quiet as she listened, the topic heavy, but seemingly so light as he touched her. "Dr Shane said that with time and therapy, you'd be fine, that you were almost there. A month later, you weren't fine. And it didn't look like anything was changing. But I would have had you any way I could've, sick or healthy, obsessive or not. I knew it would take time for you to get better, but I wanted to be there for you. And we would have found a way to have a family. I could have been a stay at home dad taking care of the messes while you went to work."

A tear slipped from Emma's eye. "But suddenly you were obsessed with being disappointed by your illness. Every day was a battle for you, trying to hide that from me. I hate that you tried for me and not for yourself. You hated yourself. You said you were coping, but you weren't. And the only way you could have been happy and relaxed and well was if you weren't with me, living with pressures you convinced yourself I was placing on you. Suddenly those dreams we had of our family were a nightmare to you, and you were trying to hide that. I was making you sick, Emma. So, yes, you could have made me very, very happy. But I wasn't making you happy. And that made me incredibly sad."

Will reached up and wiped a tear from her cheek. "Oh, Emma…" he whispered, turning to place a kiss on her forehead.

The tingle of his kiss seemed sent sparks of warmth across Emma's skin. She was finding it hard to breathe. What he said made sense. It made perfect sense. And every word was true. But all she could remember were the suitcases he'd packed for her, her boxes of books, and the shipment of pamphlets she'd left behind. And as good as felt to be kissed by him, even if it wasn't against her lips, it was also a reminder that what was happening in that moment was very much real.

"I'm fine now," she choked as more tears fell. "I go to therapy, I'm off the pills, and I'm normal." She'd never been so embarrassed, so she made a remark that she knew would cut deep. "If you stayed with me, it would have worked out."

She pulled away, and watched as pain flickered across his face.

Will ran a hand through his hair. "It only worked out, Em, because I left you. That's how it stopped hurting." He paused. "I do feel guilty for leaving you. I carry the strain of that responsibility every day. But deep down I know I did the right thing for you."

"You pretend that it was because of all that, but I think it was about sex," she declared calmly.

Will raised his eyebrows. "Emma, when you became sick again, I missed making love to you, yes." Memories of their last time together haunted him. And not in the pleasurably torturous way. Her whispers of 'Can we stop?' and 'I don't think I want to make love to you tonight' rang in his ears. "But I would never have left you for that reason."He grasped her hand in his. "Do you still love me?" he asked, the question so bluntly expressed. Emma's eyes were wide, and his gaze penetrated hers. "If you still love me, and I still love you, and you're happy and healthy, there's nothing stopping us from getting back together again."

His words rocked her for a moment. He was right. It frightened her how right he was. It frightened her so much that she began to shake. He grasped her hand tighter.

"You left me," she cried, frightened and shocked and excited. "You kicked me out of my own home. There's everything to stop us from being together again. You don't get to say things like that."

"I asked you to leave and go back to your old apartment because that was the home that you were comfortable in. Not our large house with the nursery and the picket fence. I wanted you to be happy," he emphasised. "But I think it's clear that we both still have feelings for each other."His other hand fell to her waist, and he stared at her, watched her as he had so many times before. "I told myself I wouldn't upset you again, but I never thought I'd have the opportunity to talk to you like this. I had no idea things could be so…easy."

"I don't have feelings for you," Emma whimpered, ashamed that she was letting herself cry in his hold, that she hadn't stayed strong like she really thought she could. "This isn't…easy."

"It's very easy," Will said, cupping the side of her face in his palm. "I think we could be happy again. I've never felt this way about anybody else. When I come home at night, I want to tell you about my day. I want to kiss you and hold you and feel the way that I do only when I'm with you. I don't want any other woman. I want you. Remember when we wanted to have a family? Remember the wedding plans? Your dress is still hanging in my closet. Right where you left it. And I still haven't looked at it. It's waiting for you, Em." He swallowed deeply and she watched his Adam's apple bob. She bit her lip. "God," he pressed his forehead against hers. "I've been waiting for you, Em." He pressed a kiss against the side of her mouth, and a tear travelled over his cheek. "I miss you so much, Emma."

"You broke my heart, Will," she sobbed as his lips pressed fully against hers and his arm wound around her waist. He pressed her against the balcony with passion, but held her in his arms so gently.

He didn't apologise for her claim, and deep down, she knew why. It wasn't his fault. He was telling the truth. He'd done it for her. She knew he harboured feelings of guilt about it, for saving her –he had ended it, he'd made the decision. But he'd saved her from a life of torment, a life without steady breaths and calmness, and health. Her whole life would have been full of panic attacks and depression had it not been for his sacrifice. And she would have come to loathe him for it.

However, the voice of her conscience was still strong. 'Protect your heart this time', it reminded her.

His kiss, though, she didn't loathe him for that. In that moment, feeling wanted was a necessity. Even if her conscience would make her pay for it later. And as his tongue moved against hers and his thumb ran against her hipbone, Emma thought that, maybe, soon she'd be ready to stop blaming him for saving her. That couldn't be too difficult, could it? He was already manning the anger that had flamed inside of her for twelve long months.

But as easy as it would be to forgive, Emma knew that stopping herself from falling too deeply in love all over again was going to be the hard part.


	4. Chapter 3

Emma pulled back from the kiss. Her elbow knocked the wine glass from the balcony wall. She stumbled backwards to save it. Will grasped her elbow. She tripped beneath her own feet. Her head smacked harshly against the edge of the cement balcony.

Will reached beneath her arms and pulled her up against him. "Em, are you okay?"

Her expression was etched with concern as she looked around, trying to regain her bearings. She blinked twice. Will brushed two locks of brown curls back from her forehead.

"That was a mighty way to go down," he hesitated, trying to gauge her response. He examined the bright red gash that ran from her hairline at least two inches across the length of her forehead.

Emma raised a hand to touch her forehead. "Is there blood? Am I bleeding?" she asked as she held two fingers out before her to inspect the impact of her fall.

"No, you're okay," Will assured her as she stared at her fingers, attempting to decipher whether or not they were painted red. "There's a bad bump, but there isn't much blood. Are you dizzy?"

Emma shook her head. "No, no. I'm just a bit drunk."

"Come inside and we'll get you some ice."

He led her downstairs to the kitchen, where she sat on a bench stool while he searched the freezer for anything that would seem to work. The freezer was bare but for an empty plastic container, an empty ice tray, and two small tubs of frozen yoghurt.

"This is all that's in there," Will murmured in apology. Her fingers brushed his as she took the small tub from his hands. He sat beside her at the bench. Emma smiled softly. She pressed the cold cylinder to her throbbing forehead and winced slightly.

"Thankfully it's already a hot night."

"I wouldn't have bashed my head against cement because I was hot just to have an excuse to press frozen yoghurt to my forehead," she chuckled.

Will sat quietly, his eyes trained on her. She looked down at her fingers, ring-less and dainty. She closed her eyes.

Emma pulled the container away from her skin, the burn too much after having it pressed against the aching spot for a moment too long.

"It's a really bad graze, Em."

"It isn't deep is it?" she asked softly.

"No. You don't need stitches," he whispered when she closed her eyes again. He raked his gaze over her, from her long, light brown curls to the neckline of her dress. Freckles. Collarbones. Lips. Nose. Eyelashes. She opened her eyes. "You're okay," Will finished as he showed her a lopsided grin.

A creaking had Emma turning to look out of the well-lit kitchen and into the hallway. "I think it's Morgan," she told Will as he looked over her shoulder, curious as to who had inadvertently interrupted them. "This house gives me the creeps," Emma confessed. "I feel as though I'm living in a Stoker novel."

Will smirked. "How many Stoker novels have you read?"

Emma paused for a moment while she held the frozen yoghurt away from her skin. She smiled widely. "Just Dracula."

Will reached for one of the cotton napkins on the table, took the frozen yoghurt from her fingers, and wrapped the cylinder in the fabric. This time, when she pressed the aid to her forehead, she didn't wince or hiss. _I was always good at taking care of you._

"Stoker wrote romance, too, you know," Will commented offhandedly, nothing really meant by his addition to the conversation but for it to be a fun fact.

He watched her lower lip twitch before she spoke. "Is that you way of showing off your expertise gained from that one literature course you took in college, in comparison to my twelve? Or is it your way of telling me that ours is a classic love story?"

Will smiled weakly and Emma quickly, easily, read the sadness in his gaze.

"I'm sorry I'm drunk," Emma breathed in a rush, and Will couldn't decipher whether she was sorry to be drunk, or that she was apologising for her loose tongue on behalf of her sober self.

"I'm sorry about your fall," he muttered. Then he looked at his watch and bid her goodnight, understanding that that the opportunity of a new future wouldn't be as easy as he had thought moments before she fell –moments before he failed to catch her.

* * *

Emma saw the short-haired, brunette girl in the gardens of the manor early the next morning. Emma introduced herself to Rae, a young artist who was soft spoken, tall, and had the most flawless skin Emma had ever seen.

"Mrs Treves told me that your family were friends of the Beiste's?" Emma commented in question as she helped Rae set up her art stations in the garden before her ten a.m. class.

"Shannon's father and my own father were once in business together. They were like brothers, not to mention the most successful businessmen in Seattle. Our family never lived like this though. We lived well below our means."

"You liked coming here then?" Emma asked.

"After my parents died, I lived here for a few years, until college came around," Rae shared. "Shannon was gone by that point, living in Ohio. But she was my guardian for a few months until I turned eighteen. My aunt came to stay with me until school was over, but Shannon always came to visit whenever she could. Soon it began to feel like my home, too."

Emma fiddled with an easel until Rae helped her. Emma stood back, admiring the girl's youth and spirit. "I'm very surprised that she didn't leave the home to you, Rae."

"It was hers. Her family owned it, and it was her inheritance. Mine just happens to be in a bank," she stated matter-of-factly. "She knew I was well taken care of that way." Rae unzipped a bag and pulled an elastic band from around a bundle of paintbrushes. She shared Emma's gaze for a moment before she quickly looked away. "I think she believed you needed it more."

Emma blushed when she considered the girl's words. _Is that what Shannon had really thought? I have tenure. But she did buy Artie those robot legs. So, maybe this was her way of helping me, rather than having me just take care of her business._

"I always feel that I'd rather be left something personal than money."

Rae looked up at Emma and smiled gently. Her eyes seemed to shine with appreciation of Emma. _Gratitude_, Emma supposed. _Admiration? Surely not. She has to be at least twenty-two. _

"Well, now you have," she reminded as she passed Emma to place a pair of paintbrushes on an easel. "And I'm very grateful that you're fighting for it."

Emma stepped around the larger easel at the front. A canvas rested on the sill of the easel, and was painted with what seemed to be a work in progress. A work in progress that was obviously painted by somebody truly talented.

"You make beautiful art, Rae" Emma murmured, her tone as prim as the teacher she was, as she examined the painting. "Would you mind showing me some of Shannon's pieces? I've tried looking for them in the attic, but I couldn't find them, and some of the rooms are locked—

"I can show you," Rae smiled, stuffing her hands in her pockets as she bit her lip.

"You must be a very successful artist if you only teach for a few hours a week," Emma complimented the brunette.

"I don't charge my students," Rae muttered softly. "Like I said, my inheritance has me more than taken care of." She raised her eyebrow, as if letting Emma in on a secret.

"That's very admirable," Emma declared.

Rae drew her gaze up and down the height of the smaller woman. Emma eyed her inquisitively. "Do you know much about art?" Rae asked.

"My…friend Will draws. He—"

"I wasn't asking about Will," Rae interrupted. "I was asking about you."

"I don't…make art," Emma answered.

"Is Will your boyfriend?" she ventured confidently, raising a hand to block out the sun that was slowly beginning to overtake the shade that had resided in the garden all morning.

Emma shook her head. "We were involved, but…not anymore." Rae blinked twice, waiting for Emma to continue. "Sometimes it's just hard to shake…I mean, sometimes when people ask me things I think of him and I bring him up in conversation…" Emma wrung her hands together and released a deep breath. "It's just that seeing him is…strange."

Rae seemed to ignore Emma's nervousness and clear interest in Will. "I bet people want to draw you all the time," Rae murmured softly.

Emma tilted her head, surprised by the girl's tone. "Excuse me?"

"You have a lovely profile," Rae observed.

Emma laughed and Rae smiled. "Will drew me once but he never finished the sketch. According to a sketch pad in my closet, I'm earless."

Rae stood silently for a moment before she spoke. "I have some errands to run today, Emma, so I'm afraid that I won't be able to show you the paintings until tomorrow."

"Oh, that's fine," Emma assured Rae. The girl smiled as Emma turned and started to walk towards the manor.

"I hope your forehead gets better, Emma," Rae called after her. Emma pivoted on the spot, a smile of wonder twitching her facial muscles. But when Emma turned, Rae had her back to her.

_I think I've just made a friend, _Emma thought.

* * *

"Thank you for this, Will."

Will grinned and sat back in his seat, remembering how elbows on a table were a pet-peeve of Emma's. "Like I said, I just happened to be in town. He approached me, knew that the property was mine—ours, said that he was interested in discussing it over lunch. I have no idea what his intentions are, but they could be good. Maybe he's interested in architecture? Who knows?"

"It's a chance," Emma added.

"Exactly."

Emma looked around the restaurant. It was small, but classy. Hip with a wealthy vibe. Deep red feature walls with odd prints on canvases. But she co-owned the most wanted manor in a ten mile radius. She could handle classy.

Will shifted uncomfortably on the seat, and pulled his iPhone from his pocket. "Could you put this in your bag for me?" he wondered.

Emma smiled at the question, surprised she didn't feel irritated by his simple act of reliance upon her. She reached out for the phone, but Will stopped her.

"First, I want to show you something." He entered the four letter pass code of the phone. _E-M-M-A_, she read before she realised she shouldn't have. Emma bit the inside of her cheek when she contemplated why he hadn't changed his pass code from…forever ago.

"This is my new glee club," Will proudly beamed as he handed her his iPhone.

"They look talented," Emma shared when she looked over the young faces of misfits. "Hopeful."

"That's for sure," he pronounced. "They—

"Is that him?" Emma wondered when a burly man no taller than five feet and three inches walked through the door. The hot summer breeze had made her look up. It reached as far as their table in the corner of the restaurant, swimming around her ankles, before the door closed once again.

"He's coming over here," Will observed, and Emma watched Will's face contort slightly, just as it always did when he was nervous, intimidated, acting a role he wasn't used to. _He once refused to complain about an additional cost on the gas bill over the phone, you can't really believe he'd be confident discussing millions, _Emma considered. _He's a teacher, not a businessman. _

"Is my hair covering my graze?" Emma asked, silently contemplating whether she should have been more nervous about this meeting.

Will reached between them and squeezed her hand quickly. "You look fine," he murmured.

Will stood. Emma stood.

"Mr Blake," Will greeted the man who was slowly approaching the table.

"Good evening, Mr Schuester." The man dramatically waved his hat before his face as he shook Will's hand. It was then that Emma noticed the sweat that seemed to pour from Mr Blake's pores, drip from his receding hairline, and fall over his face like tears that ran north and south, just like the New River.

"This is Emma Pillsbury, the co-owner of the manor."

Emma didn't offer her hand. The plump man smiled genuinely at Emma and sat opposite the two.

After some small talk about the day, about the heat, they ordered. When their meals arrived, Mr Blake was not shy to commence business.

"I was very surprised to not find the home on the market until now," he started.

"We've only just moved to Seattle, so everything is still being finalised," Emma explained.

"You're moving here?" Mr Blake asked. "Where are you from?"

"We're from Ohio," Will issued as he cut a bite-sized portion of his steak. "But we aren't relocating to Seattle. Just visiting."

Mr Blake nodded, his expression etched with obnoxious, false understanding. "Well, the manor isn't very family friendly. Not a place to raise a young family. Unless of course you already have children."

"We aren't a couple," Emma commented when Will didn't correct Mr Blake.

"My mistake. Well, selling is something you would be interested in, then."

"Yes," Will cleared his throat. "Of course."

"In that case, I'm going to make you both a very reasonable offer. I understand that the manor is very old, priceless, almost…historical. I've seen those enormous arch windows many a time, the steeple roofs and the tracery, too. Architecture rare to Seattle, yes?"

"We don't know much about architecture, but we assume so," Will divulged.

"You're interested in the building, the history?" Emma asked, a flush of relief settling over her.

"God, no. It looks like a god damn witch's house, like it belongs in some ghost town in Salem." Will and Emma shared a subtle, nervous glance. "But I know that it's worth more than what you've been offered. I understand that it's precious, valuable. That's why I'm offering more than anybody else for the property. I'll give you double, and then I do what I want with it."

"Destroy it?" Emma asked, shocked by the man's blunt manner.

He dropped his knife and fork against the plate, making the dozens of clattering dishes sounding from the kitchen suddenly seem like a soothing soundtrack. "Probably," he stated.

Emma sat back in her chair, the close proximity to the unattractive man making her queasy. "Would you like a tissue, Mr Blake?" Emma asked politely.

"What for?" he wondered aloud, his attention focused on cutting the last of the meat from the bone on his plate.

Emma swallowed and straightened in her chair. "It's very hot outside and you seem to be perspiring."

When Mr Blake reached for, and then wiped his face with the restaurant napkin, the pale blue material darkened. Emma's eyes widened and she turned her head to look at Will in, what a year ago would have been shock horror, but was now amazement.

"Mr Blake," Will started. "I'm sorry. We can't accept at this point in time. We don't want to destroy the property unless it's the last resort."

Mr Blake wiped his mouth with the damp napkin and stood. "My offer stands even if I'm the last resort. People will lie to you, tell you what you want to hear. They'll say they're turning it into a museum and six months later you'll come back to find it a golf course. I'm just being honest with you."

Will nodded. "We realise that. Thank you for your honesty."

"But we'd rather chance it for our own piece of mind," Emma added.

The man eyed them as though they were the most stupid people he'd ever met, and motioned the waiter for the bill.

Will coughed to gain Mr Blake's attention again, insistent, and suddenly confident, Emma realised, to show Mr Blake how serious he was. "Even if we can't sell while we're here, and we're stuck in Ohio having to converse with our realtor here, we'll do it," Will assured the man as he stuck a fifty dollar note in the bill book.

Mr Blake nodded without making eye contact. "I'll email you my offer as soon as possible." He pushed his chair in. "Thank you both for your time," he called as he walked away, shattering the façade of professional business man he'd originally arrived with. Even if it had appeared that he'd just walked through an ocean to get there.

They were quiet.

"I thought I only had a month to find someone, Will?" Emma teased. Will turned to her and grinned. He reached for his wine glass and emptied it in a single gulp. "I changed my mind."

When they left the restaurant together, the sun was still shining overhead.

"Mrs Treves photocopied some of the documents for me, so I'm just going to pick them up if you don't mind waiting, or maybe hailing us a cab," Will told Emma.

"Of course," she insisted, waving him off the other direction.

Will's phone buzzed in Emma's bag as she heard the real estate office bell ring and Will step inside. She wasn't sure what it was that made her do it when she reached into her bag, pulled out his phone, entered the pass code and opened the message. Perhaps it was knowing that Mr Blake was emailing Will the offer and she deserved to be notified, too. Perhaps it was because they had always opened each other's texts when they were engaged. Perhaps it was because she wanted to know what image he now had saved as his screen saver, what had replaced the gorgeous photo of them cuddled in bed one Christmas Eve, so cold they were both covered in fleecy sleepwear from head to toe.

It wasn't their picture.

Emma opened the text without thinking.

_I hope everything is okay. Ohio summer is murder. I'm sure missing you 'accidentally' wetting me with the garden hose each evening. If you were here in this 87 degree weather, I'm sure you'd understand how I'd be your willing victim. I'll keep the rose bushes alive until you come home. -Allie_

Emma didn't know whether she was more irritated by the knowledge that Will was flirting with another woman, just as he once had with her one hot summer day when she'd worn a white dress and he'd soaked her in the garden, or that another woman was caring for roses she'd planted in the dirt before everything had gone wrong.

Another message came through, this time from Mr Blake, with an offer Emma had guessed correctly.

"Hey. Ready to go?" Will asked as he stepped out and the bell rang behind him.

Emma held the phone up. "Blake just offered seventeen million. And Allie offered to water the rose bushes."

The breeze blew around them. The cotton bodice of Emma's floral print dress, tight against her skin, juxtaposed the freedom of the same material that made the skirt of the dress, cotton that flowed around her knees in the breeze. Will looked down at the deep V-cut of the neckline as she watched him closely. The fabric seemed like a second skin. He'd never known Emma to wear such a plunging neckline. It wasn't scandalous or provocative. She looked professional and classy. But she also appeared different…free. Like Allie.

But Emma's small chest, her modest curves, were far more tantalising than Allie's full, voluptuous breasts he'd peaked at more than once when her cleavage offered something more. Ample, tanned breasts didn't seem so alluring anymore when Emma stood before him. The floral material met at a point low between her breasts, low enough for Will to make out the side curve of her breast, Emma's barely there cleavage. Enough freckles were bared to excite him, to titillate. Will swallowed.

"Allie's my neighbor."

A car pulled up beside them, and Will looked up to find Morgan in his Prius. "What happened to your head, red?" the attorney asked Emma. Will was surprised by the genuine concern in Morgan's tone.

From the sidewalk, Emma told Morgan the story, choosing to leave out the part where her lips had been attached to Will's, his hand on her hipbone and her fingernails pressed into his chest.

"Do you guys need a ride back to the manor? I'm heading there."

Emma accepted on Will's behalf. And when Will offered Emma the passenger seat, he didn't know that he'd come to regret that kindness in a matter of minutes.

As Emma settled into her seat, Morgan headed off again. From the backseat, Will looked ahead, wondering whether anybody had ever told the guy he wore too much aftershave.

And then it happened.

Morgan reached out across to the passenger seat and rested his hand just above Emma's knee, right where bone became muscle and freckles dusted away from creamy, pale flesh.

Will watched as Morgan's fingers flexed around Emma's leg, lightly it seemed, but the tightness in Will's chest was anything but. The hem of her dress stayed right where it was. Will had made the gesture a million times before. Driving them both to school each morning, during dinner, at his cousin's wedding. But this wasn't Will touching Emma's leg. This was another man.

_Don't touch my wife,_ Will blood spat as it boiled in his veins. But she wasn't his wife. She wasn't his fiancée. She wasn't his girlfriend. She wasn't even his friend. Then why did it feel like Emma was Will's?

When Emma looked at Morgan's hand on her thigh, she felt it, too. The guilt that she'd felt when she'd first kissed Morgan, the guilt she felt when she'd married Carl. Why is another man touching me? _Because the right man left me._

And even as she sat poised in the passenger seat, enjoying the heat of Morgan's hand on her skin and the sharp envy of Will's eyes burning into the side of her face that she knew he could see, she felt lost, and confused, and…unworthy of all the attention.

However strange it all was, Emma reminded herself that she did have one advantage. She was a trained psychologist, and she understood the processes of Will's mind innately. It wasn't that hard to read him though, when she subtly turned her head and saw him looking out the window, hands fisted and his jaw tight. It was textbook frustration.


	5. Chapter 5

AN: I'm so sorry that this has taken so long to update. I started this story on an impulse when I really shouldn't have, so I'm going to start finishing it up so that I can move onto other stories. As a writer, I'm just not getting anything out of it anymore and the formula of it is boring me. So, I'm going to make a couple of sharp turns with it to finish things up. I know it's kind of a letdown, but we're moving on to greener pastures.

_Will shoved his hands into his pockets and sighed as he ducked his chin to his chest. The kitchen light seemed too bright, and the pounding in his head that had vanished that morning returned, puncturing his nerves and rendering it all too much._

"_If you go to Washington," Emma whispered in a desperate plea, "…maybe we'll be stronger when you come home." _

_Will sighed, his expression tired as he watched the floor. It was then that she realised. He'd given up._

_Emma leaned back against the counter. She grasped the edge for balance._

"_Will…" she whimpered, tilting her head to try to gain his attention._

"_If you say no to me now, Em…no to Washington…"_

"_What? What will happen if I say no now? You'll leave me?"she asked, her voice shrill. _

_He looked up. "Shh, Emma, the glee kids are in the other room."_

"_You don't want them to know you're a quitter?" she hissed._

_Will's gaze bore into hers, passion and hurt and betrayal flaming in his eyes. "I will never quit on you." _

"Will, it's okay. Really. I can call someone to come and take the door down." Emma paused and reconsidered her surroundings, the other rooms that extended from the hallway. "Rae said this was the key," Emma noted as she pressed the tiny metal object into her palm and glanced around. "I hope I have the right room."

"She said the last one on the left in the north wing, right?"

Emma nodded and observed the way the shape of Will's bicep changed as he jolted the door again. Inflamed. Relaxed. Tight. She remembered the way it felt beneath her fingers, her grip. Her hold.

"Well, we've already unlocked it. It's just jammed. Too many years of being closed up. But," he grunted softly, "I will get this door open if it is the last thing I do."

Will lifted the door knob and turned it one last time. The door popped opened, the hinges squeaking as sunlight streaming through the window in the newly exposed room kissed their shoes.

Emma grinned. "Congratulations, Mr Schuester."

"Thank you, Miss Pillsbury," Will added as he gestured for Emma to step around him.

Emma stood and looked around at the frames and canvases lined up against the walls, some covered in white sheets, others bare. At two sides of the room, large stacks of artwork piled vertically and horizontally rested upon and against chairs and tables and other pieces of furniture. Sunlight streamed through the large arch window, just as it did at the opposite end of the hallway. The room wasn't eerie or overly dusty. But the feeling of hopelessness that washed over Emma as she flipped some of the canvases around was overwhelming. All of this beautiful art at her disposal, Shannon's talent, all for Emma's safekeeping and admiration. And Rae said she could keep anything she liked. But all Emma wanted was to sit for a moment and rid her chest of the sudden heaviness that plagued her.

Where was the emptiness coming from? Emma was glad that Rae had offered to buy the manor, that it would be put in the hands of somebody so wholesome and good-hearted. Someone just like her. Somebody Shannon loved. Somebody who cared. Everything had worked out. Emma bit her tongue to fight the tears welling in her eyes.

"You okay?" Will asked softly as he lifted a large frame from where it disguised another. Emma could feel his warm eyes on her, concerned and gentle.

"Yes. I think I miss home, though. I miss my routine."

Will dusted his hands and Emma looked to hers, detesting the grey matter that coated her palms. "Well, good thing we'll be on a plane tomorrow," he sighed, his voice low and gravelly. Emma watched as he examined a landscape oil painting. She listened to his comments, the awe of his tone. Watched the line of his jaw, the way his neck angled to appreciate Shannon's talent.

"I'm sure Allie will be happy to have you back," she mumbled.

Will looked up, his expression unreadable.

"Are you…with her?" Emma ventured, attempting to cease the trembling of her fingers with a tighter grip on the border of a painting.

"No. I'm not with anybody." Silence. "I haven't been with anybody."

Surprise? Gratitude? Relief? Whatever the sensation she experienced, the one he couldn't quite put his finger on, Will saw when she raised her eyebrows and realised that she'd expressed too much, even without words. "You haven't been with anybody since me?" she clarified.

There was a beat where memories belonged, but Will eliminated it quickly.

"You've ruined me for other women," he joked, embarrassed to find that he had shocked her. His words were meant to lighten the mood, but the implication was more than true.

Emma smiled softly.

"You haven't met anyone?" she asked in the sweet, pitying, considerate tone that he didn't deserve. The same tone she'd used years ago, Appalachian song passing her lips as she spoke. _It's actually you I'm interested in. Are you dating anyone? Maybe you should._ This time, he didn't deserve her sweetness. He'd left her. But as hard as she tried to build a fort around herself, pretend not to care, she was unguarded. "Nobody?" she tried again, her shining eyes revealing that she was no longer curious because she desired him, but that she had resolved to the fact that they were over and she was now solely concerned for his happiness. When he was the one who had ruined hers.

_God, she has no idea how much it hurts her._

He didn't answer the question.

"Em, seeing as we're leaving tomorrow, I don't want to leave with this tension between us…unresolved."

She was quiet when she spoke. "I think there's always going to be a tension between us, Will. But we'll probably never have to deal with it again."

Ever?

"We could meet for coffee sometime in Ohio. You could come over and—"

"What makes you think that I'd want to revisit the past, Will?" Emma murmured, her tone neutral and seemingly unaffected as she admired painting after painting. Her words were spoken so softly and sweetly that their expression bordered on smartly ironic, and decidedly creepy. "Why on earth would I want to drive across Ohio to spend time in a house I thought I'd grow old in, and sit and drink coffee with a man I thought I'd grow old with?" Her words sent his heart hammering against his chest, blood flowing too quickly and then seeming to stop. Freeze. Burst within. "I'm dating Morgan."

Soft, hurried footsteps sounded in the hallway. "Emma? Sorry I'm late!" Rae called.

Will and Emma turned to find Rae, a bicycle helmet on her head and a backpack slung over her shoulders.

"Hey," Emma smiled. "We couldn't get the door open until a few minutes ago, so you're just in time."

Rae glanced up at Will and smiled, but the grin didn't quite develop her deep dimples she always showed to Emma. She obviously wasn't expecting him, just like every other time they'd been in the same room together.

It took an hour for Emma to sort through the paintings, to tell Rae which ones she would like sent to her home in Ohio, which ones should be donated, which ones should be kept at the Manor because they seemed to belong there. And all the while, Will watched Rae watch Emma.

"What about this one, Emma?" Rae asked thoughtfully.

Emma looked at the small canvas, no larger than a lecture pad. It had been one of the first Will had picked up. As he watched Emma set eyes on it for the first time, he knew she recognised the same thing. When she looked up at him, realisation settling across her features, Will thought that perhaps a god did exist.

It was an oil painting of a cherry blossom festival in Georgia, the same festival they'd travelled to last year for their anniversary. That weekend had been one of the last of their happier times together.

"You can donate that one," Emma whispered, her usually sweet sounding voice hoarse. "I don't want it."

There was no god.

Will's skin seemed to burn for an eternity. The sun was setting, but sitting by the window, even in such a high-ceilinged room, it seemed as hot as ever. When Rae left the room, Emma told Will that she had packing to finish, that the dust in the room was upsetting her.

"That girl has a crush on you," Will blurted as Emma made her way towards the door.

Emma blushed red and grasped the doorknob in her hand. "No, she hasn't," Emma hissed softly.

"Yes, she has."

Emma peaked her head out into the hallway, wanting to make sure Rae hadn't overheard Will's claim. She gently closed the door behind her when she stepped back into the room. "You're wrong. Rae isn't gay."

Will bit his tongue and raised his eyebrows at Emma.

"She isn't," Emma insisted.

Will smugly crossed his arms over his chest. "She can't stand me being in the same room as you, Em. She watches me out of the corner of her eye she thinks I'm that much of a threat. Don't you see that way she looks at you?"

"We're friends."

"Don't be naive. She wants more than to be friends with you."

Emma eyed Will, trying to understand him. She wanted to tell him that she wasn't being naïve, that he was wrong. Emma paused and considered his words for a moment. Maybe Rae was gay. Maybe Rae did want her. But Will…Will was jealous.

"You're jealous."

"You think I'm jealous?" he scoffed

"Well, aren't you?"

"Yeah," he admitted, perhaps too freely. "I'm jealous. I always have been jealous."

"Well, I'm sorry that you feel that way."

"I'm not," he assured her, standing taller and surer of himself. Emma raised her eyebrows, not afraid to prolong her glare. Well, at least at first she wasn't. He challenged her gaze. The burn in her cheeks betrayed her as she ignored the flutter in her belly. Emma rolled the soft flesh of her lower lip over pearly white teeth, and bit down. She looked down. Her heart seemed to drop.

"Hey, you don't have to blush around me," Will said as he watched her walk toward a sheet-covered couch and sit down. "I'm not purposely trying to make you feel anxious." She didn't respond. Will huffed, frustrated and uncomfortable, as on edge as he felt when a cramp pulsed intermittently throughout his body, and not in the pleasurable way. "About the other night," he tried. "After I kissed you and you fell…I'm sorry."

"You're sorry that you kissed me, or you're sorry that I fell?" she wondered.

"I'm sorry that you fell."

"It was my fault. I lost my balance."

Will sat down beside her on the couch, too closely. "I should have caught you." He reached up to smooth his thumb over the naked, healing graze. "A week later and it still doesn't look good."

Emma didn't know if she was angered or aroused or comforted by his touch, but she detested the feeling of home that set her conscience chanting. _You'll never love anyone else like this. You'll never love anyone else like this._ "I don't have thick skin. It always seems to look worse than it is." His fingertips fluttered along her dark hairline. "I'm fine." She swallowed and felt the threat of tears affect her entire body. "Please stop touching me."

_There was something strange about making love to Emma in a bed he'd made love to Terri in. It felt wild, passionate, dream-like. It felt like the beginning of an orgasm. Will felt that strangeness when Emma responded to him in a way Terri never had. He felt that strangeness when he pushed inside of Emma and felt her tightness. When he was there, making love to Emma and remembering fantasising about making love to the redhead when he'd been inside the blonde, it felt strange. Strange and new and explosive. Somewhere along the line, it became normal. And, too quickly, normal became destructive. _

_His hand reached for hers across the mattress. _

"_I don't want to make love tonight," she whispered when his fingers curled around he still, unresponsive ones._

_Will's jaw set tight in the darkness, sadness and hurt stiffening his form. "That's okay, baby. We waited for a long time before we started making love. I can wait again." She was quiet. "It doesn't matter to me, Em. I just want you to get better."_

_She released a shuddering breath, and pulled her hand from his. "I just need to not be touched for a while. "Okay?"_

Will pulled his fingers from her hairline and forehead. "Okay. Sorry," he whispered.

He watched the vein at Emma's temple pulse as she spoke. "I know we didn't finish our conversation the other night, but I…I don't want to lead you on, Will. I don't want to be in a relationship with you again."

He didn't know what to say.

She stood. To leave, he guessed.

"You asked me if I like your hair that way," he started. "Well, I lied. I don't like it. You had beautiful hair."

She turned to look down at him as he sat forward on the couch, elbows on his knees and hands clasped over his mouth.

"Well, I don't really care for your opinion."

"Really?" he asked, dropping his hands. "Because I think you dyed it for me. To prove that you were different."

Offended, Emma turned her head to stare out the window. Green grass rolled on for miles. What she'd give to leave the stuffy room for air. For freedom. "That's not true at all."

"Really?" he asked again. "The why does Morgan call you 'red'? He must have known you when your hair was at its natural colour, and I know that you only met him recently. You didn't dye it for him. Like me, he liked you just the way you were." He paused and watched her, contemplating how much he wanted to divulge how much she deserved. "Last night, I heard Morgan out on the porch. He was on his cell, reminding someone of the redhead he was trying to…" Will cleared his throat. "He mentioned that you'd dyed your hair just last week, that he wasn't really into brunettes but that your body was so tight he wouldn't pass up the chance. What he wouldn't give to see you naked, he said."

Emma raised her hand to her forehead. "Shut up, Will," she snapped.

"I would never, ever speak about you that way," he promised, each words spoken with such care and emphasis that alone hurt her deeply because she knew the truth of it. He was perfect for her. Too wonderful. He'd left her, yes. But she was conflicted. He'd done a horrible thing to her so that she could survive. He'd made her healthy again. He'd done it for her. She hated how he'd done it, but she loved him for doing it. She loved him, she loved that. And she wanted him. She wanted to be safe and loved again. But she couldn't. Because there had been ways it could have worked, and by taking the hard road, he had taken the easy way out.

"That's because you never wanted me that badly," Emma claimed.

Will stared at her. She stared right through him. "I said I wouldn't say it," he restated, his voice gruff and deep. "It doesn't mean I wouldn't think it, that in twelve months I haven't thought about what you look like naked."

A pulse in her lower belly throbbed into a pleasant, barely-there but oh-so-there ache.

"I'm so happy to know that you're objectifying me," she called him out, contradicting her truth.

"I would never objectify you," he whispered. "You were going to be my wife. I respect you more than anyone who has ever known you. I just happen to find you to be the most beautiful woman on the planet, too." Her eyes felt heavy and the breath caught in her throat. "So, I'm going to respect your choice to end this."

"_You_ ended this," she cried. "A year ago!"

"Yeah, I did," he calmly agreed. "And it was the hardest thing I've ever done in my life. But from this moment on, I won't try anything again. I know where I stand now."

"Yeah," she croaked. "You do."

With that, she turned and walked out.

Will crossed the room and, without thinking twice, took the cherry blossom painting from the donation pile. Slipping it beneath his arm and taking it with him, he locked the door for good.

As he made his way up the stairs to begin packing, Will devised a plan. Tonight, he'd wrap it up. Tomorrow, he'd post it from the airport to Emma's home, so that when she arrived in Lima, it would be there waiting for her. She'd remember that, over the oil painted blossoms, she had been the one to say no. She would remember that she had tossed their memories onto a donation pile. But if he sent her a reminder of that, told her he had saved their love once more, that it would follow her everywhere, especially home…well, if he put the ball in her court, maybe things would work out. Because if it were the other way around, if she'd broken up with him to save him, if she mailed him the remains of a love he'd blatantly discarded by mistake, he'd crumble. Because he already had. They were alike. Or, at least, they used to be. And if they weren't, if she had to see that painting one last time, if that was the only hold he ever had on her, if that was her cross to bear…then that would just have to be enough.


End file.
